


SABR

by wolfingbears



Series: SABR [1]
Category: RWBY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5207741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfingbears/pseuds/wolfingbears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the world of Remnant post-RWBY. The Kingdoms have been saved from the former threat, and life continues on at Beacon as usual. Team SABR are second-year students, pushing to becoming a Huntsman and Huntresses, all the while trying to exist alongside rival teams, challenges, and yet another rising threat from the Darkness that lurks at the edges of the Kingdoms...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I - The Lightning Dodger

I - The Lightning Dodger  
(Amber)

The crowd was restless, on the edge of their seats. Combat training, particularly live sparring, never ceased to draw in the students of Beacon Academy, and today was no exception. As she slipped down from the seating herself, and slipped her cleaver from its spot over her back, Amber looked at the guy who'd challenged her to a one-on-one. He was twitchy, jittering slightly. She felt a slight smile touch her lips. Tall, built along finer lines rather than bulkier ones, this Dodger character watched her approach, a supreme lack of concern on his face. He stepped closer, raising his hands and beckoning her, challenging her to attack. His falchion was still sheathed over his back, and he made no move to draw it.  
Amber hefted her blade, tilted her head, flicked a stray blonde tendril of hair out of her eye.  
Then she sprang.  
Usually, her speed surprised her opponents, and although Dodger's eyes did widen, he merely slid just out of range. His falchion was in his hand before she could so much as blink. That kind of speed... wasn't natural. It was all Amber could do to lean back, slip the slightly curved blade. She slashed at his legs, but he flipped easily over it, whipped his sword down at her, forcing her to raise her arm. It skated off her tight-fitting, reinforced gauntlet. She shoulder-charged him, but he spun out of the way again, falchion dancing in rapid, whipping strikes. Amber slipped one, deflected another with her gauntlet, then finally managed to raise her own weapon to deflect some of the pressure. For all his speed, he still hit incredibly hard. He was already overwhelming her, using his reach and footwork to dance out of range, cut at her. Strikes hit her, pain flashed. Amber needed to change tactics – he already had her on the defensive, barely surviving his onslaught. She swung her blade, forced him to jump back. The missed swing gave her more momentum – she jumped, spinning, and then lunged. Dodger dived into a roll, narrowly slipping her huge strike. The cleaver buried itself into the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, Amber saw that now-infuriating curved blade whirring back towards her. She caught hold of Gutterball's hilt, activated the hidden trigger. A high-power cannon round exploded from the hidden gun. The recoil turned her into a wrecking ball, smashing into the speedster. She lost her weapon as they slid across the polished floor, tangling up with each other. Dodger twisted, fast, trying to snake away from her, get his falchion free.  
“Oh, no you don't,” Amber growled.  
He shot an elbow at her. It slid off her head, and she sank a punch into his ribs. He flinched, crumpling under it, and she hammered him, raining fists and elbows down on him. He slipped a few, caught others on his gauntlets, but more than a few were slipping through, smacking his head against the ground. Amber could feel her satisfaction building. She moved, catching him by the armour, and then twisting, flinging him up into the air, flailing. Joining her hands, Amber swung them together with all her strength, hitting Dodger as he was halfway to the ground. The blue-haired speedster spun and tumbled across the floor. As Amber leapt for Gutterball, still lying on the floor, she saw a spark of lightning crackle around Dodger as he stood up, swaying a little. Then he was gone.  
“All right, you want to play like that?” he asked, voice mocking in her ear.  
She swung, trying to beat him down with Gutterball, but he wasn't there.  
“Let's play, little lady.” His sword cut into her leg, staggering her.  
A knee smashed into her chest, immediately followed by a spinning kick that sent her staggering for balance. But she couldn't even get that far – his falchion was already smashing down on her arm, slicing her weapon from her hand with almost contemptuous ease. Amber raised her hands, but his weapon raked across her ribs, making her stagger, trying to recover. He was relentless, a lightning-storm of flowing, random strikes, humming with electricity. She could smell ozone in the air as he pounded her. It was all she could do to track his movement, maybe duck the odd strike. He was a blur of blade and blue and lightning and she couldn't see him. And she couldn't hit what she couldn't see. Dodger kicked her gut, and then sprang into the air, somersaulting, his boot connecting with the back of her head and forcing her to her hands and knees. A knee slammed into her back, shoving her into the cold, polished floor. A hand grabbed her hair, and bared her throat. A cold, razor edge settled against her flesh, and she grimaced as the blade bit hard.  
“Game over,” he told her, a smirk in his voice.  
The bell for the end of the bout sounded, and Dodger moved, taking his knee off her spine, withdrawing his sword and sheathing it over his back. Amber felt a numb, sinking feeling overtake her. She'd just lost. True, he was a second-year student, but no one was that fast. No one. She watched him trade grins and fist bumps with his team, and then turned her head, looking at Gutterball, her weapon, lying just within arm's reach. A single shot from the barrel would've been enough to spin him off her. Cut fingers were better than a cut throat. She looked down at herself as she sat up. Her clothes were sliced all over, criss-crossing. Amber straightened up, and then scooped up Gutterball, letting it slide back into its holster. Fighting back a huge tide of disappointment, she made her way over towards her opponent and his team.  
They noticeably stiffened as she approached, but Amber forced a smile and held out her hand.  
“Good fight,” she offered.  
He considered her for a moment. “You shouldn't rely so much on strength.”  
“I don't,” Amber told him, and gritted her teeth as his team chuckled.  
“Well, it's why you lost, kid. Next time, try and fight less like a berserker.”  
“Next time, I won't lose,” she told him quietly.  
The conviction in her voice made him pause.  
“We'll see,” he said, and clasped her hand.


	2. II - Fighting Spirit

(Amber)

“... I've never seen anyone that fast,” Amber muttered.  
Sapphire snorted disapprovingly. “You should've declined.”  
“I wasn't about to pass up fighting someone new.”  
Her friend sat back, ministering fingers moving away from the slashes in Amber's clothing. Thankfully, her aura had kept her from any serious injury, but the toll it'd taken on Amber was huge. She felt like she'd been through a meat grinder. Looking down at her bracers, she flexed her fingers, and then started to unstrap the gauntlets. She needed a shower, and probably a nap. Sapphire shook her head, sitting back on the couch and crossing her long legs easily under her, clasping her hands under her chin in that odd, contemplative pose of hers. Amber had only recently been moved to the new team, SABR. Sapphire was the team leader, a graceful, poised girl who came from a traditional family. Initially, Amber was sure that they'd clash heads over everything, but Sapphire had more than happily adapted Amber's hotheaded, passionate blood-knight tendencies into the group. The two others had gone in search of food, which was appreciated – Amber was starving. She dropped her weapon harness and belt kit beside her bracers.  
“Dodger, wasn't it?” Sapphire asked.  
“That's right. The team name is DAWN.”  
“Haven't seen much of them until now.” Sapphire's gaze was distant. “Wonder why that is.”  
Amber shrugged. “They probably keep their heads down and train. Don't get out much. Like you lot.”  
Sapphire smiled, tucked her azure hair behind her ear. “Mm. Go on, go for a shower.”  
Thankful, Amber retreated to the shower, letting the hot water pound over her, chasing away the feeling of cold steel smashing into her skin. As much as she hated to admit it, Dodger had been right. Amber relied far too much on surprise and her strength. She knew she was quick, but he was a whole different level altogether. She drew a lot of her victories from her opponent's surprise – for a girl of her size and build, she was astonishingly strong. Her aura was far stronger than most, too – she could tank unbelievable amounts of damage, if need be. But, in a bout, tricks like Dodger's pin came into play. If she'd moved faster, maybe she could've fired Gutterball, rolled him off her...  
She turned off the shower, shaking her head to herself. He'd won. Game over.  
Sapphire was still on the couch when Amber stepped back into the sitting room again. The dorm was the responsibility of the team keeping it, and their leader had rapidly made sure it was multi-purpose. She'd somehow found second-hand (but still incredibly comfortable) couches, a coffee table wide enough to accommodate a meal for the entire team. The beds had been lined up neatly enough next to the wall. Well, for the girls at least. Burg, the only male in team SABR, preferred the couches, chivalrously allowing them their space. Amber stretched, grateful for the comfort of her pjs, slumped onto the couch beside Sapphire. Her friend seemed to slip out of her trance of thought.  
“So, liking on any of the boys this year?” she teased.  
Amber laughed incredulously. “Don't be ridiculous!”  
Sapphire raised a mock-serious eyebrow. “Sure?”  
“Where did this conversation come from...?” Amber demanded. “Since when do we talk about...”  
The door exploded in, bringing with it the other two members of the team and a smell that made Amber's mouth water. Burg was carrying the bulk of it, balancing it on his arms surprisingly well. Noodles, wrapped parcels of deep fried goodness, meatballs, and a whole variety of delicious sauces awaited. Juggling the food expertly, the only male member laid out their dinner on the coffee table and then draped his lanky frame over the arm of one of the couches. Tall, lean, and dark-haired, Burg wasn't bad-looking, Amber had to admit. His piercing green eyes had a way of unnerving her, though. Like he was looking right into her soul, analysing every molecule of her, one at a time. His glasses, slipping down to the end of his nose, just made him look all the more like an eccentric young professor, not a student.  
“How did you manage to steal all of this from the cafeteria?” Amber asked in disbelief, picking up a warm box of rice. The smell alone made her stomach growl. “This is practically a three course meal...”  
“Fear not, dear lady,” Burg told her, “for everything we stole, we had something better to return.”  
Amber added Burg's odd way of speaking to her mental list of his oddities. “Like what?”  
“The good wishes of the mighty wielder of...” Burg began.  
“They liked your fight, Amber,” Rogue told her, elbowing him in the ribs. “Eat. You look like you're starving.”  
Then, without any further ado, the teenagers tore into the food. Amber tore into the fried rice, completely unaware of how hungry she actually was. All the fighting, and using her aura... it drained her energy, every time. And to keep up with the others, she had to eat. And eat a lot. Gradually, as the others ate their fill, conversation turned to what had happened during the day. They always did this – comparing notes, sharing information, keeping each other up to date. Sometimes, it was sharing Burg's notes – the guy was insanely focused in theory lessons – or observations on the fighting styles of other teams. So, naturally, the conversation fell to the bouts of the day. Amber was content to eat, and listen. She'd done her part, and, in a way, she'd let the team down by losing. She didn't want to make it any worse.  
“Thoughts on team DAWN?” Sapphire asked, swirling a glass of juice and sipping it.  
“I'm surprised they've managed to be so quiet for so long. I practically never noticed them until today,” Rogue admitted, pulling her knees up under her chin. “Pretty lame for the team's information broker, but I've got next to nothing. What I can tell you, though, is that Dodger's Semblance didn't kick in until after you pinned him and tried to turn his face into mince, Amber. It was almost like you forced him to resort to a higher level of power just to win.”  
Amber couldn't but feel a glow of warmth at her words. Rogue was only a little older than Amber – eighteen – and was amazing at blending into crowds, talking to people, gathering information, favours, and other juicy tidbits that might give their team an edge over the others. Her distinctive red scarf and lining in her coat were hanging on the hook, just inside the door, leaving her long dark hair to flow easily over her white shirt. She was almost the foil to Burg in the team – while Burg was a pure tactician, eccentric genius and resident oddball, Rogue was well-adjusted, capable of translating his ramblings, and more familiar with the nuanced, human things most teenagers possessed, called feelings.  
She differed from Sapphire, though. Sapphire felt like an older sister. Rogue, more like the best friend she had.  
“So... you're not ticked that I lost?” Amber asked, hesitating.  
Burg created a steeple with his fingers. “I saw far more of his fighting style with you on the defensive.”  
“The more we see, the easier we can find flaws and weaknesses in it,” Rogue told her. “So your rematch might be on more even ground. He's fast. He hits hard. But he's not like you – he can't take a good hit. Or twelve.” She winked.  
Sapphire shook her head. “It's not just that. Were you watching the rest of his team?”  
“They didn't seem too bothered about the whole thing,” Amber said thoughtfully. “Like it was just a walk in the park.”  
“So either they're all that good...” Rogue began.  
“... or the idea of losing doesn't matter to them,” Sapphire nodded.  
“I'm inclined to think the first,” Burg suggested. “But just theorising without any kind of data is an invitation to failure.”  
Sapphire laughed. “Listen to us, we're treating them like they're the enemy. They're just another team, really. They have their strengths, and we have ours. It's best if we don't compare each other. We're probably more book-smart.”  
“Yeah, cause that's a real advantage,” Amber muttered under her breath.  
“It's a cute thought, Saph,” Rogue added, “but we need to be all-rounded. Good thinkers and fighters. That's what being a Huntress is about. And Beacon's all about pushing limits. So what if we compare each other? You can guarantee that the teachers are rating us against the others. Don't know about you, but I'd like to be on the top of that ladder.”  
Amber bumped fists with her. “Hear, hear.”  
Sapphire frowned, and then looked at Burg. “What about you?”  
He shrugged. “It's all chess, in some way or the other.”  
“What do we have tomorrow?” Amber asked, feeling excitement flood her body.  
“It's Friday,” Rogue laughed. “So, if I read that crazy look in your eyes, combat training.”  
Amber looked back at Sapphire, who had a resigned expression on her face.  
“We already train four days a week,” their leader pointed out. “You want to step that up?”  
“How much time do we spend in the library?” Amber countered. “Staying on top of our essays and exams?”  
“Much more time,” Burg supplied. “Although it might help if you wanted to do your own research, you lazy...”  
“We just need to step up our game,” Amber interrupted excitedly.  
Sapphire stood up, and started piling the empty boxes of food into each other, a smile touching her face. “Well, you sound like your mind's made up. If we can kick Burg awake early enough, we'll meet down at one of the spare classrooms. You want to step up training, we'll step it up. But I want to make something clear, right now.” Authority, effortless, slipped into Sapphire's voice. “I don't want any of you looking for trouble with team DAWN.”  
Amber felt Sapphire's eyes zero in on hers. “Understood?”  
The team murmured their assent.  
“Glad we have that sorted,” Sapphire said briskly. 

Amber settled down into bed, and watched the ceiling for a while. Burg had turned the lights down, just enough to see by, and placed a glowing crystal on the table, alongside his coveted chess set. Sapphire sat across from him, her hair seeming to glow slightly in the low light. Rogue turned in early, tired from the day's studies. The low murmur of conversation from the two chess players was beyond Amber's reach of hearing, so she laced her hands behind her head, and half-closed her eyes. This was her second year at Beacon, and throughout her time at the Academy, she'd learned a lot. She didn't come from rich blood, like Sapphire. She was a farmer's daughter, and like her sisters before her, she'd learned how to look after herself. Grimm attacks were a matter of course in such an outlying section of land. Things like grace, style and subtlety were for those who had the gift of time – Amber hadn't. She'd had to rely on raw willpower to even survive her first few years of childhood, and it'd come with her to Beacon. The last thing she'd expected was for Professor Ozpin to slot her into team SABR. The others were completely different. Sapphire and Burg were thinkers. Good fighters, yes, but they preferred to win their battles with strategy and efficiency. Rogue was a little different – she'd grown up on the streets of Vale, in the criminal underground, where information could prove exceptionally useful, and keeping your head down and your plate clean were matters of course. Amber felt a slight smile touch her face.  
Her fight with Dodger had been an eye-opener.  
Instincts wouldn't make her a better fighter. What she'd taught herself was survival, nothing more. Here, she was training alongside people who treated it like an art form. Where a single step, slip, or strike could mean the difference between winning or losing a fight. And here, it was controlled. As they were trained, they'd be sent on more and more dangerous missions. Amber had heard the stories of students dying, and she didn't doubt it. Grimm, in her experience, were not creatures to be trifled with. She yawned, stretched her aching muscles, and then rolled over, tucking an arm under her pillow. A moment later, she was in the soft emptiness that was sleep.


	3. III - Is It A Dance?

(Rogue)

Sipping a warm, freshly-brewed cup of coffee, Rogue curled up on the couch as she tried to wake herself up. Amber was still snoring softly in her bed. Sapphire had vanished – probably to get permission to use a spare classroom. And Burg was reading, book in one hand, steaming mug in the other. She smiled as he idly flicked a page, frowning in concentration. In a world where everything was digitised and at your fingertips, some still clung to tradition. Maybe that was one of the reasons why Burg got along so well with a group of girls. He was far too reserved, and possessed far too much gentlemanly conduct, to ever try and pull something with any one of them. Smiling mischievously to herself, Rogue scooped up a chess piece and flung it across the room. It plinked off Amber's skull, making her sit bolt-upright with sleepy, misdirected murder in her eyes.   
“Rogue!!”   
“Morning,” Rogue called back cheerily. “Coffee's by the bed.”   
Grumbling to herself, Amber crawled out of bed to her morning brew. Seeing as the team was half made up of genius-level intellects, there was a pretty solid routine in place, although it was relaxed on their days off. Burg was the first up – he made coffee for them, and tactfully read as the girls readied themselves for a day of study or training. Then, they did homework checks, making sure everyone had enough to get through the day. After that came the run around Beacon Academy – an almost-crippling run that Rogue eventually grew into. It kept them all fit, toned, and capable. Especially in winter – it was freezing enough that your breath misted and you were grateful for the warmth that movement brought. Rogue wasn't a stranger to the cold, though. After that, showers were taken, they changed into their uniforms, and they met in the cafeteria for breakfast. During the weekend, they were far less strict. But, after seeing the kind of fighter that they were competing against, Rogue agreed totally with Amber. They needed to train harder. Her eyes drifted to her weapons, hanging on the hook by the door, next to her coat and scarf. Twin curved, almost sickle-like blades, silver with scarlet furrows adorning them. Rogue affectionately referred to them as Linnet and A littLarrikin.  
Amber slumped onto the couch beside her, and tossed the chess piece at the board. “Every time.”   
“This was supposed to be your idea,” Rogue laughed. “You were all fired up last night, and now look at you.”   
Unsavoury things were mumbled into Amber's coffee as she sipped it. But, as always, the heavenly brew chased away her morning grumpiness and brought back the boisterous girl that they all knew and loved. Burg sighed in frustration, closed his book and dropped it beside the others, grimacing and running a hand through his hair.   
“Did you sleep? At all? Or did Sapphire keep you up?” Rogue teased.   
In times gone by, Burg would've flushed and fumbled for words. He just chuckled.   
“You'd know if that were the case. You sleep lighter than a feather.”   
“Unless you've just learned how to be really quiet,” Amber whispered conspiratorially.   
Burg snorted. “Please. I have no ambitions toward Sapphire.”   
“None at all?” the girl herself asked, already in the door.   
“None personal,” he corrected himself hastily. “Classroom organised?”   
Sapphire winked at Rogue, and then nodded. “It's free as we speak. Ten minutes, everyone.” 

Rogue rolled her neck, loosening up her shoulders. Across from her, Burg waited patiently. He was fully-armoured, in that deep, almost purple-red that he wore. In his hand glittered his longsword, Rook. Typical of him to name his weapon after a chess piece. Tightening her grip on her own weapons, she drew them from their place over her back, smiled, and then sauntered closer to him, keeping her head tilted at a cute angle. His features didn't so much as flicker – his razor focus was in place, watching every movement she was making, picking at tiny flaws that he could pinpoint and then take advantage of. The classroom was blissfully empty, and the training floor was spotless under their feet. Rogue slashed. Hooked blade met straight. She was forced to move as he slid past her guard, the point of his weapon already aimed at her throat. Burg wasted no energy, no movement. He seemed as measured and calm as he did over study. She attacked again, a chain of slicing strikes, spinning to add momentum and power. Burg slipped the first two, parried the second, and then flipped his sword over in his hand – the second the straight blade touched his bracer, it widened drastically, activating the secondary feature of his weapon – a wide, teardrop-shaped shield. Rogue bit back a curse as he easily deflected her strikes, and then surprised her with a spinning kick, forcing her to cross her arms and protect her neck. He was using his reach to his advantage, keeping her at a distance, where she could only try and catch him with the very tips of Larrikin and Linnet. She jumped, spinning and aiming her own kick at his head. Boot hit shield, and she propelled herself off it, flipping and landing in a crouch, before springing, cat-like, at him again. He swept aside two strikes, ducked a third, and then rolled as she leapt into the air and brought her blades slashing down at him from above. The power strike left her open. He smashed into her with his shield, staggering her, and then flipped his weapon around. It folded back into its longsword form before she could so much as blink.   
For the first time, he spoke. “Glad you're staying unpredictable. Makes it difficult to form a strategy.”   
“You don't mean that,” Rogue said, teeth gritted, and then slung her blade towards him.   
The hooked blade detached, and then seemed to rip itself to pieces, into a dozen spinning, bird-like razors. Burg was forced to spin his blade back into a shield to fend them off, and Rogue hurled herself back at him. Even through a cloud of biting, cutting metal drones, Burg still had enough focus to catch Linnet on his shield, rotate, and send her staggering away. Lifting her empty hilt, Rogue twisted it and the biting drones raced back, rematerializing into Larrikin again.   
Burg slid easily into a defensive stance. “I think you're approaching this the wrong way.”   
“What do you mean?” Rogue asked, blurring forwards and attacking him again.   
Burg went on the defensive, deflecting one hooked blade, slipping the second one, and then countered with a kick that hit Rogue in the gut, staggered her. He swung effortlessly around, and she barely managed to cross her blades to stop his. She strained, trying to twist Rook out of his hands, but Burg was stronger than he looked.   
“You're seeing it as a fight.”   
“And it's not?” she growled through gritted teeth.   
He levered her crossed blades up, and then kicked her again, taking her leg out and making her fall flat on her face. Breathing hard, she rolled to her feet, barely managing to keep air flowing into her lungs. Burg waited, longsword at his side, watching her through round lenses. He looked so calm, composed.   
“It's a dance, Rogue. It's chess that moves as fast as your thoughts and body do.”   
Panting, she stepped forwards again, reversing her grip on Linnet. “Dance with this.”   
She hurled another stream of whipping metal blades at him. Rook spun, widened, and then became a shield again, deflecting the attacking cloud of steel that Linnet had become. He only had to shield his face – the rest of his body was protected by his armour – and Rogue moved again, cutting at his leg. Burg slid out of the way, moving so smoothly and naturally that she felt vaguely annoyed. He was too smooth. She waved Linnet's hilt, reformed her blade, and then continued with her onslaught. A plan was starting to form, now – if she kept Rook in shield form, he couldn't attack her. And the shield could only deflect so much, really. She cut low, high, slashed from above and below, constantly shifting her stance and angle of attack. Burg had to toss his shield from arm to arm to stop her from landing a hit. She needed to get him into a rhythm, and then stop it suddenly, make him hesitate. Attack, attack, attack... she launched herself skyward, attacked him with a head kick, and then rolled into a sweep, forcing him to jump back. Rogue hurled Larrikin at him, whole, not splitting apart. His eyes widened, and he caught the blade on Rook. Her curved sword stuck, hard, into his shield, and then she blurred forwards, sheathing Linnet over her back. She smashed into him with a lancing kick, forcing him to adjust his balance. She snaked forwards, kicked again, knocking his shield aside, and then pounced closer. Rogue smashed her skull into his face, jammed his leg and then tripped him spectacularly, riding him to the ground. Burg crashed into the smooth floor, and, stunned, couldn't bring Rook around fast enough. Linnet hissed out of her sheath, and settled against his throat.   
Burg laughed, breathless. “See? Strategy.”   
“You didn't know what I was doing, admit it.”   
“I had an idea,” he chuckled, “but I wasn't counting on a headbutt.”   
Rogue leaned in close, until she could taste his breath – an earthy scent, laced with coffee.  
His eyes locked onto hers, and Rogue smirked as she saw hesitation, confusion...  
“It's a fight, Burg,” she breathed. “Not a dance.”   
Something hard and heavy smashed into the side of her head, stunning her. Linnet vanished, and then Rogue felt Burg move under her, twisting like a python. She crashed into the floor, Burg's knee pinning her to the floor. He yanked Larrikin out of his shield, reformed it into a sword, and then slammed her own blade into the ground, an inch from her face. Her breath hissed out of her as she flinched at the sudden contact. Burg examined the length of his own sword, checking for damage, and then, satisfied, sheathed it over his shoulder. His knee didn't budge from its pin, though.   
“I'd argue differently,” he said, looking into her eyes, the seeming fear of closeness nothing but an act.   
Something exploded behind them, and then Burg moved, dropping to the floor and kicking Rogue across the smooth floor. She cursed as she spun, but then saw a spinning Amber whip past her half a second later, crashing into the viewing seats of the training floor. On the other side, Sapphire sheathed her long, sky-blue katana.   
“You keen to change partners?” Rogue asked Amber, as she stumbled out of the seats, fury in her eyes.  
“No, I'm not going to lose...”   
“It's not a tournament,” Burg reminded her. “Just practice.” 

“Well, I have to say, you certainly train like you'd fight,” a new voice observed.   
Rogue glanced upwards, and saw the speaker leaning back, his feet crossed over the top of the seat in front. She cursed herself for being so careless – the guy had slipped in entirely unnoticed, and she was supposed to be the one with the sharpest eyes. He had pure white hair, with a black skunk stripe. Black jeans, white shirt, arms that rippled with lean, toned muscle. Well-fitted black hi-tops covered his feet, a chain was wrapped around his waist, instead of a belt. Rogue frowned, something flickering at the edge of her memory. Something told her that she knew him.   
“This is a private training lesson,” Sapphire informed him, voice cold. “We weren't looking for an audience.”   
“Well, I was,” he smirked. “With Rogue. So, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to her.”   
“Typically, it's polite to introduce yourself before making requests,” Burg said, voice deceptively calm.  
The stranger's smirk widened. He stepped up onto his chair and launched himself into the air, tucking himself into a forward-flip, and then landing on the training floor like a cat. He straightened up, odd silver eyes never leaving Rogue's. She stared back, combing through her memories, before Beacon, before the new life that she'd started here...  
“Name's Sable,” he said, spreading his hands to show that he wasn't dangerous. “Rogue, can I have a minute?”   
Rogue glanced at Sapphire, who nodded curtly. Amber mouthed be careful.   
As she turned to follow him out of the classroom, she saw lines inked, just above the hem of his shirt.   
And then everything came back into a flash. Who he was. What he was doing here...


	4. IV - Breaking and Entering

(Rogue)

“Since when was your name Sable?” Rogue demanded. “How did you even get in here?”  
He leaned against the wall, hands in pockets. Casual on the outside, but his gaze had softened, gone from its usual mocking edge to genuine concern. She'd only seen it once before, in her past. She could remember the boy who'd smashed a window in the middle of a meeting gone horribly wrong, and diving with her out of it... the details were finally starting to come back. A small-time crime gang in Vale with huge ambitions – they'd called themselves the Clan, last she remembered – had paid her well for her services. But they'd seen her as a loose end, and the lean, toned youth beside her had saved her life. They'd hid together in the sewer system for two days. He'd called himself Kale back then, not Sable. The fact that he was here, in Beacon, made it even worse. She'd left that part of her life behind – and now here he was, bringing with her the memories of her past that she'd wanted so badly to burn and bury.   
“Beacon's security is nothing next to other places, trust me. Rogue, listen...”   
“No, you listen.” She glared at him. “I left my old life behind. I'm someone else now, not a scared little snitch. You're the last person that I want to see right now. I need to focus on my training and my study. If you wanted to talk, you could've just messaged me.”   
“It's not enough,” he told her. “I don't think you understand.”   
“Understand what?” Rogue demanded. “What is there to understand?”   
“That Beacon's no longer safe,” Sable pressed. “You need to get out.”   
She laughed. “Seriously? Where would I go? Back to the streets with you?”   
Sable's flinch barely fazed her. “No. But you should still go.”   
“I have a life here. I don't have to steal and cheat and lie for a living anymore.”  
A humourless smile curved on his face. “And that makes you better than me?”   
“You broke into Beacon. A training facility for Huntresses and Huntsmen. Everyone here can look after themselves, even the first-years. You're trying to tell me that we're all in danger? Really? From people like you?” Rogue shook her head, a mocking smile touching her face. “I thought, after we crawled out of that sewer, you said you were getting out.”   
His face hardened, and he straightened up. She knew she'd cut him, but she didn't care.   
“And why is Beacon in danger from street trash?” Rogue asked. “What happened?”   
“A couple of your classmates stopped a heist we were planning.”   
She laughed. “And now you've declared war on us? Really?”   
“It's not funny, Rogue. You're not safe here.”   
“I think I'll stay,” she told him, her smile still carrying a mocking edge.   
He glared at her for the longest time, and then the door to the classroom slid open. The rest of her team spilled into the hallway. Their weapons were sheathed, but their expressions were anything but friendly. Rogue felt a swell of gratitude for her friends – they knew something was wrong, and although they respected her privacy, they still had her back. Sable's hands tightened into fists, and Rogue thought, for a moment, that he was going to do something reckless.   
But he just shook his head and then turned his back on her. “I warned you.”   
Halfway down the hallway, he just vanished, a translucent shimmer flashing around him for a brief moment. Rogue bit her lip, and then held up a hand to keep the others quiet. His Semblance was invisibility, and she had no idea if he was still lingering there. She drew Linnet, and then sent a hail of blades down the hallway. When they behaved normally, spun and returned, reforming back into her blade again, she knew that he was gone.   
“Old friend of yours?” Sapphire asked quietly.   
“Apparently I should run. Beacon's going to come under attack.”   
“That's ridiculous. This is one of the most heavily-guarded facilities in Remnant,” Burg said. “Full to the teeth of individuals who are more than capable warriors. Unless they're leading a revolution, there's no danger here.”   
“So he's not a student?” Amber piped up. “He just slipped through security?”   
Sapphire frowned. “If he's part of their organisation, I doubt that they even know he was here. Sounds like he came in here to warn you because he cares. If that's the case... then he's been following you, keeping an eye on you. If he can slip in and out of Beacon like that, who's to say that there aren't others who can do the same?”   
Silence reigned as the implication of Sapphire's words sunk in.   
Rogue shook her head. “So far as I know, he's the only one with an invisibility Semblance.”   
“Makes no difference,” Sapphire told her. “He can still get in and out without being a student. Or a teacher.”   
Burg glanced back at the rest of them. “I'm going to inform Ozpin. Shall we meet back in the dorm?”   
“I need to get outside,” Amber complained. “Get some sun.”   
“Courtyard, then,” Sapphire said.   
“One last thing,” Burg asked, adjusting his glasses, as he looked at Rogue. “I don't mean to pry, but this is important. What's your involvement with this invisible interloper? What's his name?”   
“It used to be Kale, but he calls himself Sable now. He saved my life, back on the streets.”   
“And this organisation? Is it based in Vale, or do they merely have a branch here?”   
“Couldn't tell you.”   
Burg nodded. “Ladies.”   
And, with that, he took his leave. 

The fresh air of Beacon's courtyard was a relief – after seeing Sable, Rogue had felt like she was suffocating in the hallways. Unease was gnawing at her. Sable hadn't come to hurt her. Even if he was a thief and a criminal, he still cared about her. The fresh air brought with it an old memory. She sat down on a bench, staring at the pavement, mind flashing back to the past, when she'd last seen Sable – Kale. 

(A shadow settled down next to her, against the grimy sewer wall. Rogue flinched as his long, lean form rippled into sight. His smirk flashed in the darkness, and she hit his shoulder, annoyed that she hadn't detected him approaching.   
It'd been hours ago, but she was still shivering from the unexpected wire whipping around her throat, slicing effortlessly through her aura and cutting off her air supply. Then this lunatic, beside her, had thrown her out of a window, into a dumpster, before jumping after her. Since then, she'd been burning with curiosity, wanting to know who he was.   
“Why?” she asked him, not for the first time.   
He shrugged. “Waste of a pretty face.”   
She frowned, but he just laughed and bumped his shoulder playfully against hers.  
“Won't they kill you for this? After you get out of here?”   
Kale just laughed. “I doubt it. I'm pretty good at hiding.”   
Rogue had gone quiet then, watching rats scamper through the tunnels.   
One brushed against her foot, and she flinched, involuntarily pushing herself up against Kale. The thief chuckled, flipped the rodent over with a shove of his foot, and then wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Rogue started to protest, but his arm and chest almost seemed to radiate heat. And he didn't smell quite as bad as the sickly-sweet human waste around them. The huge adrenalin rush that came with narrowly avoiding death had faded, and now she felt drained, tired beyond belief. She relaxed, letting her head fall against his shoulder.   
They were silent for a time. The sound of liquid sluicing through channels was oddly relaxing.   
“I don't think this life is for you,” Kale muttered finally.   
“I've been in plenty of narrow scrapes before,” she argued, but her words felt hollow.   
“Not quite that narrow,” he chuckled.   
She shifted, uncomfortable .”Guess I owe you, then.”  
Kale laughed. “I wouldn't worry about keeping score, Rogue. I'm hoping when we climb out of here, you turn your back on all of this and go straight. Snitches don't survive for very long on the street.”   
“What about you?”   
“I'll get by.”  
She frowned tiredly. “If I'm going straight, so are you.”   
He laughed. “All right, deal.”   
Rogue couldn't remember when, but she'd fallen asleep. When she'd woken up, Kale's comforting shoulder had vanished – he'd taken her coat, rolled it up, and then eased her onto the ground. She was cold, stiff, but alive. He was nowhere to be seen. She straightened up, blinked a few times, rubbed her eyes on her sleeve. An arrow had been carved into the brick of the sewer wall. Then, on the next turn, another arrow. He'd left her a path to get out...)

“Rogue?” Amber asked insistently, shaking her.   
She blinked, and looked up at her friends, who were both watching her closely, looking concerned. Rogue just tried to smile and brush them off, but the attempt was lame and she knew it. They both sat down beside her on the bench. Sapphire, as perceptive as ever, pinned her with those beautiful azure eyes of hers.   
“It's got to do with this Sable character. Is there something between you?”   
“Not like that,” Rogue protested. “But he saved my life. And he came back here to do the same thing.”   
“So you don't think he's dangerous?” Amber asked.   
“I couldn't take him seriously. But the first time he acted, he saved my life.”   
“Sounds like he's got the hots for you,” Amber pointed out. “Why else would he want to protect you?”   
Rogue was struck speechless. Thinking back, it made perfect sense, but she couldn't see why.   
Sapphire's warm fingers curled around Rogue's. “Don't think about it too much.”   
And so they sat there, quiet. Despite the sudden whirlwind of confusion that had rapidly overtaken her life, with her friends around her, Rogue felt warm and safe. Secure. Her past was half a decade ago, buried in shadows and her new life. She'd fought and clawed and trained herself to the bone to get accepted into Beacon. And even if those shadows had slipped back, she was strong enough to fight them now. She felt someone watching them, and looked up.   
A Faunus, dressed in deep red, cat ears poking through her hair and a tail twitching playfully behind her.   
Had she been watching the training bouts? Rogue narrowed her eyes, and then remembered. She was part of team DAWN. She grinned, cute cat fangs edging the corner of her smile. Amber straightened up, casually drew Gutterball, and dropped her weapon on the ground in front of her, fingers tapping the haft of the huge cannon-cleaver.   
“Can we help you?” Sapphire asked, a little stiffly.   
“Well, I actually came looking for Burgundy.”   
“His name's Burg, and what do you want with him?” Sapphire asked, her gaze suddenly turning to steel.   
“Oh, trust me, nothing too taxing. I've been looking for someone to play at chess.”   
Rogue thought back to the countless hours that Burg had played against Sapphire, and couldn't help but smile.   
“He went to see Ozpin,” Rogue told her. “Just after your team, unless I'm much mistaken.”   
The cat-girl regarded Rogue with new interest. “You seem to be in the know about a lot of things.”   
“You know how rumours flutter about,” she shrugged. “And I seriously doubt you came here to play chess.”   
“Well, not completely, although that was on the table. I wanted to negotiate an informal truce.”   
“Who said we're at war?” Rogue countered.   
“What makes you think that's happening?” Amber asked, at the same moment.  
The Faunus in red just laughed. “I like you guys, I really, genuinely do. You're sharp and you keep a low profile. But I know that one of you...” she nodded to Amber, who had a psychotic grin spreading across her face, “don't take to defeat too kindly. So I was hoping we could come to an arrangement where someone doesn't try and start a rematch.”   
“First rule of diplomacy,” Sapphire said, “is to treat the other party as equal.”   
“Your point?”  
“You try to appeal to us with flattery and then talk down to us like we're children,” the team leader pointed out. “So, evidently, you don't see us as entirely equal, just people who could be a thorn in your side if we disrupt you.”   
“Or you're just overanalysing a perfectly friendly request,” the DAWN girl suggested, smiling.   
Rogue caught hold of Amber's forearm, just her friend's fingers started to wrap around Gutterball's haft.   
Sapphire straightened up, carrying that perfect poise she always seemed to possess.   
“Maybe I am. But I'm willing to humour your request. I have two conditions.”   
The Faunus' grin widened. “Yes?”   
“I'd like to know your name. And your word that your team won't violate this agreement.”   
“Nebula,” the cat-girl told her, “and you have my word.”   
Amber muttered curses as she sheathed Gutterball. “I'm Amber.”   
Rogue couldn't say that she disagreed with Sapphire's decision. She may not have liked team DAWN too much – they seemed overconfident and far too self-concerned – but it was a good way to make sure that Dodger and Amber didn't go at it again. Sapphire's leadership would ensure that team SABR wasn't going to break the truce. If things came to a head, it'd be on the other side of the fence. Standing up and rolling her shoulders to loosen up her arms, Rogue stepped forwards and offered her hand to this newcomer, Nebula.   
“Rogue.”   
“I like your jacket,” Nebula commented.   
“Well, it's not like yours. Won't stop traffic if I jaywalk,” Rogue said, grinning to take the edge off her words.   
“Touche,” the Faunus laughed. “So, I have your permission to challenge... the other guy to a game of chess?”   
“Burg,” Amber reminded her, a fierce smile touching her face. “And expect to lose. He's good.”   
Nebula's tail twitched, as if affronted, and Sapphire nodded without saying a word.   
“Well, nice meeting you,” Nebula said, and for what seemed to be the first time, sincerity crept into her voice.   
“We'll do coffee sometime,” Sapphire returned graciously. “Burg knows his beans better than anyone.” 

As the Faunus moved away, in a quick, almost skipping-like step.   
“I don't like her,” Amber said, the moment she'd left.   
“Swinging your freaking axe around like that probably gave that away,” Rogue laughed.  
“What has me even more concerned,” Amber said, swinging her legs over the side of the stone bench, “is that Sapphire is allowing one little cat in red to get under her skin where Burg is concerned. Is playing chess really that harmful?”   
“I don't think Burg's going to let her get under his skin,” Rogue said supportively.   
Her mind flashed back to that split second of carnal weakness during their training.   
But it hadn't been weakness – he'd used it as a tactic to make her hesitate, second guess herself. Rogue took a deep breath, and then turned to look over the courtyard, to the sky around them. Beacon was a glorious piece of engineering, a hovering academy that wreathed itself in clouds, thick, almost an impenetrable fog some days. But on a day like this one, when the sun shone through and split the ethereal white shield of condensed moisture... Rogue could feel the breeze, gentle, almost caressing, slip through the grounds, making the grass ripple, tugging a few strands of her hair free. The flawless blue of the sky, edged only by the sides of the enormous superstructure they were standing on...  
A hand found Rogue's shoulder. “Don't worry about Sable. Or the others.”   
Sapphire's soft voice in her ear just made Rogue smile.   
“I won't. If you don't worry about Burg.”   
The team leader's fingers tightened. “Rogue...”   
“Saph, you might be able to convince yourself, and even the others, that you don't like him, but it doesn't fly with me. He's a good guy, and let's be honest, if any of us need a relationship, it's him. Poor guy is utterly freaking clueless.”   
Sapphire suppressed an amused snort.  
“He's in his element. All a game of chess is going to do is make him think.”  
“I don't know what I'd do without you,” Saph said quietly.   
“Not freaking much, I'll tell you that,” Rogue laughed. “I'm starving. Let's go eat.”


	5. V - Beyond the Physical

(Burg)

 

The stairwell leading up to Professor's Ozpin's office contained four hundred and six stairs. The meeting had been short, and while the Professor had seemed to take Burg's suggestions on board, he'd essentially dismissed him. After, of course, promising to look into it through different channels. It was going to have to be enough – Burg knew that investigating it alone with his team was a risky proposition. Risks were only worth as much as the reward that came along with them. As he slipped down the stairs, he heard racing footsteps. Looking up, he saw a feline Faunus racing towards him, feet darting and agile, long red hair streaming out behind her. One of the DAWN members. Burg had no idea what she wanted – she looked fast, but she was in an enclosed stairway, with a railing and a long drop on one side and a wall on the other. She was moving and tactically, at a disadvantage, if her intentions were hostile.   
“There you are,” she said breathlessly.   
Burg frowned. “How may I be of assistance?”   
“Well, firstly, we have a truce with you guys. So I thought that a game of chess to celebrate was in order.”   
Certainly not the first thing that Burg had expected. “Typically chess isn't much of a festive exercise.”   
“I feel like playing a decent game. The rest of my team can't play for nuts and I found out that you've been the reigning chess champion in Beacon for the last two years.” She grinned at him. “I didn't even know we had a competition here.”   
“Beacon's an academy, and I would argue tactics play a significant role in combat.”   
“So, will you play?”   
She seemed rather... energetic. But Burg knew not to underestimate his opponents, no matter how odd, quiet, strange or confident they first appeared. She seemed reasonably confident she was going to win. Possibly overconfidence, or a genuine appreciation of her own skills. His mind raced ahead, away from them. If they'd formed a truce to keep hostility between teams to a minimum, it would seem likely that Sapphire would've agreed to it. Burg regarded the Faunus in front of him, eyes sparkling and daring grin practically taunting him.   
“After you,” he conceded, motioning to the stairs.   
As they moved, the girl talked, tail twitching back and forth.   
“What do you think of us?” was her first question.   
Burg shrugged nonchalantly. “You're another team.”   
“And that's it?”   
He just smiled thinly, utterly unwilling to give any more information. The Faunus pouted, and as they slipped through the corridors, she grinned mischievously. Burg was instantly on his guard, keeping his stance casual, but watching her intently out of the corner of his eye. A moment later, they were in the expansive Beacon Library. Shelves soared to the high ceiling, sliding ladders waiting patiently at every end of the shelf. Records, thousands and thousands of handwritten accounts detailing the world of Remnant, surrounded them. Burg could practically smell the knowledge and wisdom of Huntsmen and Huntresses leaking out of the books. The cat-girl rounded a corner, and there, on a table, sat a chess set. Burg turned to the Faunus, who caught his gaze and grinned.   
“What?” she teased.   
“May I ask as to your name?”   
“Nebula.”   
“Burgundy,” he returned, inclining his head politely.   
“From what I hear, it's just Burg,” Nebula laughed.   
“To my friends.”   
“You must've had some odd parents, Burg,” the Faunus said, sitting down at one side of the board.   
So she'd already chosen her colour, then – white. The aggressor in the conflict, the one on the front foot.   
“I suppose,” he replied wryly. “They were both librarians – conventional names weren't very well their forte.”   
Nebula moved, beginning the game, but her playful yellow eyes watched him rather than the board. Burg assessed the move, called to mind the four dozen chess strategies he'd invented and memorised religiously. There were four variations on each and every one of them had ensured him a victory against other players. He moved his own piece, and the Faunus continued to talk as they played. Presumably to keep him distracted.   
“So, which academy did you train at before Beacon?”   
“Couldn't afford to pay for tuition,” he informed her. “I trained myself.”   
Her hand, fluttering towards one of her knights, stopped short. “What?”   
Her astonishment made him chuckle. “Surely that isn't too strange.”   
“It's strange,” she assured him, moving her knight.   
“Amber – the one who fought your friend Dodger – also learned instinctively,” Burg said.   
“She's from the Outlands,” Nebula argued. “You have to be tough to survive that. But I can't see how someone growing up in a library would be able to get into Beacon, working purely from self-taught combat skill.”   
“Then you should expand your mind,” he said. “Because here I sit before you.”   
Nebula's gaze held a new respect. “How'd you get into team SABR?”   
Burg slid a piece across the chequered tiles, and smiled humourlessly. “You're quite a talker, aren't you?”   
“I'm just curious,” she protested. “I want to know more about our new allies.”   
“A truce implies neutrality,” he pointed out, “not necessarily goodwill.”   
“So, if you don't trust us, why did you agree to play chess with me?” Nebula countered.   
“I have my reasons.”   
“I'd like to hear them.”   
Burg smiled, and then watched her move, analysing. “To put it simply, I came here to learn.”   
“About me?” Nebula asked, tilting her head.   
“Precisely.” He laced his fingers together, leaned forwards on his elbows.   
“You haven't exactly been asking a lot of personal questions,” she pointed out.   
“You're a feline Faunus, gifted with an incredible aura and skill. The way you carry yourself, the casual confidence, suggests a level of technique mastery that most people dream of. I can practically feel your aura as you walk into a room. I'm not quite sure as to what your semblance is, but I'll hazard a guess it's quite impressive.” Burg saw her eyes widen slightly in surprise, and he chuckled. “Your weapon's collapsed, but it's reasonably easy to guess that it's a halberd, probably with a ranged secondary capability. High-energy kinetic rounds seem likely. A few scrapes and bruises that you're trying to conceal with subtle movements point towards a recent fight. One that you most likely lost.”   
Her eyes narrowed, but astonishment was creeping across her face.   
“Your aura would've deflected most of the damage, but he – I'm supposing it was a he from the angle of the strikes – was formidable enough to break through it and actually physically harm you. If anything I've seen of you is correct... that's quite impressive. I'm also assuming that it happened outside Beacon. Although street fights to the death don't quite seem to fit in with the team dynamic in DAWN... so you were attacked. Perhaps criminals in black and white?”   
Nebula stared at him. “Have you been following me?”   
Burg moved a piece, keeping the game moving. “I'm not the best at remaining inconspicuous. A tall, lanky git in dark red would probably stand out. I merely speak of what my eyes tell me of you. Oh, and check.”   
She looked down at the game, but he could tell that she was unnerved. Burg felt a smile touch his face, satisfaction warming his insides. It was certain she'd vastly underestimated him, but then, most people did. Of particular note was the fact that she'd reacted at the black and white description. Rogue's mysterious Sable figure had fit into that mould interestingly enough. But, in placing events in their order – Nebula had been attacked before Sable had appeared. Perhaps the criminal group were plotting a revenge attack? And this Sable character had come to warn a girl that he still cared for? Interesting. Very, very interesting....  
Nebula slipped out of check easily enough. “Well, I can't say I was expecting that.”   
Burg shrugged, moved another piece into place. “Most people don't.”   
She looked down at the board. “Well, you've shown me a trick. Can I show you mine?”   
He decided to humour her, and nodded. She moved a piece, then fixed her eyes on his. Burg frowned as her eyes suddenly slid into slits, as wide as a hair, before slowly widening. The darkness in her pupils was oddly compelling – but as her irises seemed to burst and blackness overtook her entire eye, he started violently. Nebula stood up, smiling, her flesh beginning to drip, as if it were liquid. Her teeth lengthened into fangs – every single one of them, long, curving, carnivore teeth designed to rip and tear. Burg stared at her, frozen in horror, as the last of her seeming humanity fell away from her, gliding away on the floor, leaving a monster of dripping shadows in front of him, fingertips lengthening and sharpening into talons. The room's lights seemed to fade, and then the monster spoke.   
Its voice was like a thousand tortured souls, whispering inside his skull... Burg jammed his hands over his ears, sheer terror overwhelming him, making his heart hammer like a drum and sweat pour from his skin... he twisted, and then the monster upended the table without a single effort. Chess pieces clattered against the floor, making it ripple, like the surface of a lake. Burg couldn't so much as breathe... his body was screaming at him, and the voices kept speaking to him, howling at him for release when he couldn't give them any...  
AS MUCH AS YOU MAY SEE, YOU DON'T KNOW ME  
Burg saw the last of the chess pieces sinking through the floor, and then, as it sunk through the surprisingly solid surface, something occurred to him. Illusionary abilities. His mind was panicking because everything around him made zero sense... and the horrifying, dripping monster less than two feet away from him was still Nebula. Cold, functioning, logical thought regained control and he sat up, looked up at the monster, teeth gritted...  
“Interesting trick.”   
He blinked, and he was still sitting on a chair, leaning against a perfectly upright table, looking into the eyes of a red-clad cat-girl. His knuckles whitened as he came to himself, and as he looked down, he could see that his own fingernails had dug into his hands hard enough to make them bleed. The chess game was still in play, but his king was lying on its side, as if slain by a stray attack. Burg realised that the adrenalin was still surging through his system. Sweat streamed down his face, and if he had to guess, his face was probably drained entirely of colour. Thankfully, he didn't feel sick.   
Nebula smiled, an oddly fascinated expression on her face. “You've got a strong mind.”   
“Not strong.” Somehow Burg managed to keep his voice controlled. “Just fast. And perceptive.”   
“That's my little trick,” the Faunus told him. “Your move.”   
Breathe, Burg ordered himself. He put his king back up into a standing position, and continued the game.   
It didn't go for much longer – in five moves, he'd checkmated Nebula, who just smiled as she knocked her own king over with a flick of her tail and she rose to leave. She paused, a moment before she turned around a bookcase, and then looked back at him. Burg could feel those feline eyes on him still, depthless. He knew, consciously, that she had seen inside his mind for a few moments, seen his worst fears, and then shaped them into a weapon to attack him where it hurt him the most. As much as he'd tried to analyse her, he'd only picked up outside, surface detail. She'd seen inside him.   
“You know, I let you win,” she told him with a smile.  
He nodded, but didn't look at her.   
“Pleasure to meet you, Burg.”


	6. VI - Strategies of the Heart

(Burg) 

“Where have you been!?” Amber exploded.   
Burg opened an eye, and realised he was lying lazily on his favourite couch, leg over one of the arms and his glasses askew. Seeing who it was, he let his eyes close again and his body relax. After his match with Nebula, he'd seen sleep and recovery as the best way to deal with a huge adrenalin rush. He hadn't given too much thought to the others, but as the others filed in quietly behind Amber, he could tell from a quick glance that they were relaxed, and Amber was just looking to release some pressure that had evidently been building.   
“Investigating,” he said in the way of a reply.   
“Oh, the cat girl?” Amber perched on the arm of the couch, inches away from him. “And what did you get out of her?”   
The combined suspicion and almost accusing tone in her voice made Burg raise an eyebrow. “Rough afternoon?”   
“I asked first.”   
“And that requires me to answer first?”   
“Just answer the question!” Amber demanded.   
Sapphire and Rogue both rolled their eyes and then dropped onto the couches. There was a knowing look between the girls that Burg didn't like. As if they all had a kind of plan. Of course, asking them about it could prove to be hilariously awkward, and he had no intention of putting his feet where they didn't belong. Burg closed his eyes and just chuckled.   
“I know of no established rule that requires me to answer demanding questions at your every whim, Amber.”  
Amber looked up at Sapphire. “Can we establish a rule like that?”   
“Requires a majority vote,” the leader said, suppressing a grin.   
Burg heard a rustling noise as all three girls raised their hands.   
“Remind me of your question again?” Burg muttered, rolling off the couch.   
“What did you get out of her?”   
His mind flashed back to the hallucination, the dripping monster of shadows, more horrifying than any Grimm he'd ever before encountered, and paused. Then he wandered over to his parent's old coffee set and put the kettle on to boil.   
“Certainly a skilled warrior, with a strong will and a powerful semblance. Uses a spear/heavy rifle hybrid.”   
“Did you checkmate her?” Rogue asked, rolling off the couch and gathering his old coffee mugs.   
“Apparently she let me win,” Burg said thoughtfully, grinding up new beans.   
Amber snorted. “Right.”   
“Why do you think she wanted to meet you?”   
The hint of seriousness in Sapphire's voice made Burg pause a moment. Why had the Faunus come looking for him specifically? Burg wasn't the best fighter or the best leader or the best information-gatherer, although he could play all three roles if it was required of him. He was only different from the rest of the team because he was male. If Nebula was trying to use that against him, she was going to be sadly disappointed. He couldn't deny that the cat-girl interested him, albeit in a rather removed fashion, much like one would admire an interesting fish in an aquarium. The only reason, in his mind, for the chess game, was for her to get a measure of what he was like.   
“I can only assume that she wanted to find out who she was dealing with,” Burg told her finally.   
Sapphire's deep azure eyes zeroed in on his, and he met her piercing gaze without flinching.   
Something occurred to Burg in that moment. He never would've thought of his team leader and partner as possessive, but he couldn't describe her behaviour any other way presently. It was almost as if she was afraid she was going to lose him. Their relationship, in Burg's mind, was purely one of companionship and trust, but if what he was picking up was correct...? The team leader may have allowed herself to consider them as something more than just that. Burg poured boiling water onto the finely-ground coffee, unleashing the full fragrance of the beans, and then attempted to wrestle with the sudden surge of irrational excitement that had attacked his insides. There was every possibility he could be misreading her, he tried to tell himself. Burg had never been one to be led by emotion, but even the very concept that Sapphire was romantically involved with him was enough to make him giddy. Like any other bullheaded, undisciplined, excitable eighteen year old. Burg focused his breathing, sharpened his mind, and utterly failed to escape these bizarre sensations that were threatening to overwhelm him.   
“So,” Rogue said, miraculously providing him with something else to focus on, “we have new assignments coming up.”   
Amber's straightened up. “Is it a hunting trip?”   
Rogue confirmed it with a grin. “Unescorted, deeper into the territories.”   
“Two teams didn't come back last year,” Sapphire pointed out. “Safety is our biggest priority, before anything else.”   
“Nothing personal, Saph,” Amber sighed, dropping back against the couch again, “but you know how to take something exciting and make it sound about as mind-numbing as math.”   
Rogue laughed. “You're our heaviest hitter, Amber. You'll get more than enough action.”   
“When?” Burg asked, trying to bring the conversation back to its subject.   
“Tomorrow. Picked up a hint from one of the professors walking by in the hall.”   
“I love this girl,” Amber said, grinning. “Always ahead of the competition.”   
Coffee steeped, Burg set about adding cream and milk in varying patterns, blending in sugar and creating the coffee that his mother had passed on to him before he'd left for Beacon. He passed the mugs around, and then sat down among the others, breathing in the scent of the steaming drink in all of its glory. Sipped. Felt the sweet nectar fortify him, sharpening his mind, and, in moments, making his nerves tingle with electricity. As casually as he could, he glanced up at Sapphire, who was leaning forwards, slender fingers curled around her coffee mug as she stared into the depths of it. He'd been partnered with her ever since he'd first laid eyes on her in initiation. He could still remember that moment, after being catapulted off a cliff's edge, with Ozpin chuckling quietly to himself as they were hurled into the sky... she looked up, and he felt his pulse involuntarily accelerate. She'd braided her hair differently this morning, leaning more to the left, rather than the right, which was her preference. One thing that never ceased to escape Burg's astonishment was her poise. Sapphire had incredible control over even the smallest movement tics, a feat that must've taken incredible personal discipline. Her clothes were casual, yet classy, long dark trousers easily fitting her long, curved legs...  
Focus on something else,he snarled at himself. Go for a damned shower if it helps you, but STOP ANALYSING HER.  
Rogue and Amber were still chatting easily enough, but as Burg drained his coffee and got up, Sapphire gave him an odd glance. Not meeting her eye, he walked into the shower, slipping his shirt over his head and locking the door. 

Later that night, Burg was running through a new book, absorbing new information on Grimm armour, how it shaped and hardened over time. A small movement made him glance up. The lights had been toned down, almost to darkness, and his usual red Dust lamp glowed softly on the table, bathing the couches in soothing shades of red. Sapphire sat down across from him, wrapped in a soft blue nightgown, hair loose around her shoulders. He'd always seen her as beautiful, but he'd managed to keep his cold, hard, logical mind from letting it affect his judgement. All it took was half a thought and he was losing his composure. Now, in the low light, she looked lovelier than ever, and as Burg closed his book, he made a conscious effort to appear as casual and normal as he could.   
“New strategy tonight?” he asked with a quiet chuckle, nodding at the already-set chessboard.   
She smiled. “Always.”  
They began to play in silence, and Burg found comfort in the simplistic nature of the game of chess. She opened surprisingly aggressively, while still maintaining a decent defence, but she was still leaving openings. As was his habit, Burg purposely overlooked certain strategies that would finish the game early, and instead allowed himself to further examine Sapphire's style of playing and offer suggestions as to how she could improve. Normally, they might make small talk about the day's events, upcoming assignments or exams, or study, but tonight, they sat and played in companionable silence. Burg stole a glance at the time, and then, in two or three moves, finished the game.  
“Thought I might've had a chance tonight,” she said, a weary smile of resignation touching her face.   
“Your strategy's improving,” he pointed out. “You've gone from purely defensive to more aggressive.”   
Sapphire looked up, her gaze meeting his, soft blue eyes meeting green. “Burg...”   
“Hmm?” His stomach tightened instantly, but he kept the clueless smile on his face.   
She hesitated. The silence seemed to settle like a wall between them.   
Tell her. If you keep this in your head, it's going to hurt you in the long run, Burg told himself. But he hesitated, too, because he had no idea if what he felt was mutual. The team dynamic worked precisely because Burg was removed, distant in a romantic sense. He was the son of a family of librarians, and certainly not rich ones. Sapphire came from blood so noble and pure that Burg couldn't even picture the kind of family and life she'd led before Beacon. He only knew about the composed, driven, polite, charismatic girl in front of him. Perhaps it was only natural that he should feel desire for something that he couldn't have. Burg would've traded a limb just to see what she was thinking at that precise moment. Finally, Sapphire spoke, her voice subdued.   
“Thanks for the game.”   
“A pleasure, as always,” Burg replied, inclining his head politely.   
“Sorry I'm not better conversation,” she said.   
“Silence is the music to which chess was set,” he said, quoting an obscure literary genius.   
“Rogue told me that you see everything like you see chess,” Sapphire murmured, as if to herself.   
“Chess is a good analogy for life,” Burg said, “but people don't exactly always play according to the rules.”   
Sapphire laughed. “So, if we're all chess pieces, which one am I?”   
Burg shook his head. “I couldn't possibly define you in one piece, Sapphire.”   
“As team leader,” she said, with a playful edge to her voice, “I order you to tell me which piece I most resemble.”   
He felt unease ripple through him, coupled with the same strange adrenalin rush that he'd felt earlier that evening. She watched him intently, a small smile touching her face. Burg shrugged nonchalantly, scooped up his fallen queen, and then tossed it to her. Sapphire's hand darted out and caught it, an eyebrow raising, but just the faintest hint of colour touching her cheeks. Burg forced himself to act normally, breathe evenly, as if it were nothing... but he knew that, for the first time, he'd given just a slight hint to her. And she'd seen it, accepted it.   
“Why a queen?” she challenged.   
“They're powerful, more than capable of attack and defence, make for excellent leaders, and their mere presence can unsettle even the most experience players,” Burg chuckled. “I'd say it's not a bad comparison. And if you want to compare the rest of us to pieces...” He leaned forwards, and moved three pieces forwards, to the middle of the board.   
Rook. “Amber. One of the hardest to destroy head-on, but very straightforward and vulnerable from diagonal attacks.”   
Knight. “Rogue. Utterly unpredictable, can pressure multiple pieces easily, expert at slipping over and through crowds.”   
Bishop. “And yours truly. Not as dangerous as a rook or a knight, but a good support piece to stitch your strategy together. Couple that with a queen, oh glorious team leader, and yours is an army that few can defeat together.”   
Sapphire stared at him in amazement for a moment, and then laughed. “Burg, you just said something deep.”   
He felt her gentle teasing warm his entire inside, as if he'd just washed down a warm cup of coffee. “It does happen, amongst all of the interminable waffle.” Stretching out, Burg felt a yawn building and covered his mouth, sweeping the pieces back into their purple silk bag. “Well, we choose our assignments tomorrow. Rest is strongly advised.”   
She smiled, and nodded, pulling herself up from the couch. As she moved past him, she laid a hand on his shoulder for a moment. Warm, comforting, more than a little friendly. Burg was glad the red light concealed how his face was burning. Her low musical murmur just made it worse.   
“Goodnight, Burg.”


End file.
